


i can give just one thing that stays

by boston_sized_city



Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, I'm Sorry, It's Mark, Major character death already happened, Married Mark/Oliver/Alex, Multi, Other, Post-TAMA, That's Legal In The TBS Universe Marcus Decided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boston_sized_city/pseuds/boston_sized_city
Summary: Oliver and Alex look through old memories of the past year as they try to make one more good one together.Alex doesn't feel the same without him. Oliver is breaking.
Relationships: Adam Hayes/Caleb Michaels, Joan Bright/Jackson Crawford, Mark Bryant/Alex Chen/Oliver Ritz, Samantha Barnes/Mags Densmore
Kudos: 8





	1. april 12, 2024

**Author's Note:**

> \- title from cut you a piece from 35mm -

Alex Ritz-Chen (and even now, that still felt _so nice_ to say) carried the dusty cardboard box of photos down the stairs, the weight clearly more than you’d expect of such a box. “Found it,” he said with a soft grunt as he set it down on the bottom step.

“That’s the last one.” It wasn’t a question, the way Oliver said it, but Alex nodded. Oliver's smile back at him was soft, almost sad, but then it changed to a more firm, pleasant emotion, as if he’d remembered himself. “There’s room enough for all of them, I did the math.” It was as if the moment hadn't happened.

“Good, don’t want all that hard work to go to waste.” Oliver could have said that carrying a box full only of  _ photos _ down twenty-seven steps was not hard work, but he held his tongue. 

Instead, he looked back at what was already on the wall in front of them. The photos were laid out in what could have been some sort of chart, but the pattern was slightly messy, because Alex had wanted it to look less than perfect.  _ It looks better scattered, not everything is a scientific graph. _

It was a nice layout; Each photo brought back a nice memory. Most were of the last six years, the happier ones in the last five. Oliver’s eyes followed the pattern, taking in every moment, every memory.   
Oliver. Alex. Mark. Oliver, Alex, and Mark. Their friends. Sam and Mags. Joan and Jackson. Caleb and Adam. Everyone was in couples, paired off in every photo. And now they were, too.  
Oliver, Alex, and.

He teared up. 

And then he froze.

“That one shouldn’t be there,” he said, stiffening slightly as his eyes found a picture out of place. He wiped the tears away when he turned. “That was last month, it should be closer to the stairs. It’s  _ chronological.” _

“It doesn’t really matter, it’s fine there.” Alex barely glanced up, digging through the box on the step and starting to lay out the photos. 

Oliver shook his head, running a hand through his hair. It dampened his hair; his hand was slick with sweat. “That’s not where it goes. Give me the hammer, I need to move it.”

“It’s  _ attached to the wall,  _ and it’s not a big deal.”

“It has to be perfect!” Oliver snapped, and then shrank back, his hands clenching around the rough fabric of his sweater sleeves. Alex was looking up at him now, his expression turning sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “It’s fine.”

Alex put down the photo he had in his hands and got up. He replaced the photo with his husband’s hands, and squeezed them gently before he let go. His hands were warm, thankfully only because of the heat inside the house. “We’ll figure out a way to move it without destroying our wall. Do you want to help me sort through the rest of the pictures? Then you can put them up how you want.”

Oliver took a second to relax, exhaling, before he nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was tight, holding back emotions he didn’t like to admit he had, not even to Alex. 

He took one last look at the photo he’d found out of place. Him, Alex. And Mark. Standing together with awfully-thrown-together birthday hats around the worst birthday cake Oliver had ever seen. Mark had offered to buy a new one, but Alex insisted that the one he’d made for him was perfect. And Oliver looked at it again, with the too-drippy icing and the candle puddles and the smushed-in side and the misspelled names from the dizzy stress, and he thought it was perfect, too.


	2. march 18, 2024

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The majority of the chapter is fluff but the end of the chapter is angst!  
> Implied character death, grieving. (It's like four sentences, I'm starting small).

“So you..  _ can’t  _ have a cake ready for us by tonight?” Mark’s voice stopped Oliver from walking into their shared bedroom. He hung by the doorway, looking in. Mark was sitting on the bed, facing away from him, on a video call from his phone.

On the screen was Adam, still as bright and smiling as he’d been when Oliver met him, more than five years ago. “Sorry, we’ll be out of state until tomorrow. But, hey, tell him I said happy birthday!” There was another muffled voice. “Oh, so does Caleb.”

Mark’s voice was slightly disappointed. He was clearly trying not to sound crushed. “I’ll tell him. Thanks, anyway, and have fun on your vacation, you two.”

“Will do!” A disembodied hand gave a peace sign from the side of the screen. Adam waved before the screen went gray.

Mark turned off his phone and tossed it onto the mattress, dropping his head into his hands as he sighed. Oliver decided it was as good a time as any, and knocked on the wall as he walked inside. “You doing alright, coma guy?”

  
He sat down next to him, letting Mark shift against him and rest on his shoulder. It was rare, still, that he let people touch him. Even Alex and Mark had to keep some distance on occasion. “I promised I would have everything ready. Everything’s ready. Except for this damn  _ cake. _ ” 

“Huh.” Oliver’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he dropped his head against Mark’s. He felt metal on his knuckles, and unfurled his fingers to hold his husband’s hand. He brushed his thumb against the gold and silver rings. “We could make it ourselves. Didn’t you used to bake?”

“I used to… Attempt,” Mark admitted with a low laugh. He sat up, slightly, enough for Oliver to see his face. Less tense than before, that was good. “Joanie can tell you, I was a nightmare in the kitchen. Haven’t I mentioned that before?” He shifted again, more relaxed this time.

Oliver shrugged slightly. “In passing. I’ve only seen you try and cook a few times, and they weren’t so bad.”

Mark see-sawed his hand. “In your opinion. You probably transmuted my food to make it taste better.”

“Never once.” Oliver cracked a grin. “I can’t add flavour, I only made it edible.”

That earned him a light nudge on his ankle from Mark’s foot. “Whatever.” He was silent for a minute after that. “I think doing it myself is my only option now. Alex gets home in five hours.”

“I could help,” Oliver offered. “My ability isn’t completely useless.” He did want to help. What he didn’t want to do was admit that it was because he thought he didn’t enough. 

“No, I said I’d do it.” Oliver knew Mark enough to know that we wouldn’t budge. Once he set himself a goal, he  _ had  _ to follow through with it. He didn’t like asking for or getting help.

Oliver shrugged slightly. He wouldn’t get anywhere if he argued. “Call me if you need help.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mark passed him when he walked out, and at least stopped for a second. He wasn’t in a  _ bad  _ mood, smiling as Oliver pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I mean it.” He held his hand, for just a second, and then made his way completely into the room. He fell onto the bed as he watched Mark go.

Oliver wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep. All he knew was that he was woken up by the loud tone of a smoke detector.   
He sat straight up, his chest tightening with anxiety. Mark was in the kitchen.

He went straight for the kitchen. “Mark? Is everything okay?” 

The kitchen was hazy, but it didn’t look like an immediate danger. Mark was at the sink. A discarded cake- at least, Oliver thought it was supposed to be a cake- was in the garbage can. “Everything’s fine, just- Misread some instructions on the recipe. I’m good, it’s all good.”

“You sure?” Oliver waved the smoke away from his face to get a better look at the mess in the kitchen- and on his husband.

Mark was covered in flour and batter when he turned around. It coated his hair and apron. He wiped a glob of batter off his cheek and grinned. “Perfectly sure.”

“How have you survived this long?” Oliver shook his head, walking into the kitchen. He wiped some flour from the side of Mark’s face.

He grabbed a towel from a hook on the side of the cupboard and tossed it at Mark. “Clean up, I’ll help you with the cake.”

“No, you won’t.” Mark shook his head as he cleaned off his face. He ruffled his hair with his free hand, getting flour everywhere.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’ll supervise.”

Mark shook his head again. He tossed the flour-covered towel back at Oliver and went back to the fridge, grabbing new ingredients and setting them out on the cluttered counter.

He hummed as he worked, this time clearly paying more attention to how he measured out the ingredients.

It was a few minutes before he managed to get the cake into the oven. Oliver had gone on his phone, scrolling through his Instagram just to look at his old photos. When he heard the oven shut, he looked up, and smiled. “How’s the cake going?”

“Better than the last one.” Mark exhaled, pulling off his oven mitts and undoing his apron, just letting it fall. He walked over to the counter that Oliver was sitting on and leaned against it, letting Oliver wrap his legs around him comfortably.

He rested his head on Mark’s, moving his arms around him, too, after putting down his phone. “I’m going to help you decorate it.” He wiped some excess flour he still had on his hand against Mark’s cheek.

“No, I can do it.” He batted away Oliver’s hand.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.” He pressed a kiss into Mark’s hair and slid off the counter. “Don’t burn the house down,” he teased with an extra ruffle of his husband’s hair.

He heard Mark protest as he left, and smiled.

* * *

The cake was a mess, and Mark was crying.  _ Mark was crying. _

Oliver decided to focus on that first, going over to him, sitting in the dining room chair next to him and scooting it closer. “Hey. Mark?”

“I fucked it up.” He pulled his sleeve across his eyes, only making them more red. “I promised that everything would be perfect and it’s  _ not  _ because I thought I could do it and I  _ failed.” _

Oliver reached out to touch his arm, and then down to hold his hand. He wasn’t great at comfort, he never had been. But he still did what he could. “You tried,” he said gently. “Alex won’t be mad at you,” he added, because he knew what Mark was scared of.

Mark shook his head slightly, looking at the cake on the table. The candles had melted somewhat, dripping messily onto the frosting and obscuring the sloppy text. The heat from the candles had melted the icing, too, which dripped down the sides like ice cream. Half of the cake was sagged, looking punched-in.

“If it makes you feel better, I couldn’t figure out the birthday hats,” Oliver tried. He gestured to the other end of the table, where three ugly cone hats were set.

That earned a small laugh, and he relaxed into a smile. “We should have just gone out today,” he mumbled, leaning forward into Oliver’s shoulder.

Oliver shook his head, rubbing up and down his back, staying silent. They stayed like that for a long time.

They stayed like that until Alex came home.

The doorbell rang, and both men shot up. “I’ll get it, and it’s going to be fine.” Oliver gave a reassuring smile before he stood and went to the door, opening it.

Alex was standing there, balancing a large cardboard box on his leg. He grinned. “Hey, I think one of my presents got here,” he said.

“Oh, shit, I didn’t hear the doorbell before.” Oliver took the box into his arms and moved to let Alex in, following after him and setting the box down on the coffee table.

He straightened. “Cake is ready, if you want to start the party. Mark’s in the dining room with it.”

Alex beamed. He had to stand on his toes to kiss Oliver, but he never minded. “You two are seriously the best. You didn’t have to get me a cake.”

“Mark made it.”

“Oh.” Alex’s eyes lit up. “He didn’t have to do that. I’m going to- go eat it,” he laughed a little, and followed Oliver into the dining room.

Mark stiffened visibly when they walked in, and Oliver frowned. But Alex didn’t look disappointed. He brightened when he saw the cake. “You didn’t have to,” he said again.

“I didn’t,” Mark said, barely loud enough to make out. “It’s barely edible, it’s not a cake.”

“It looks great.” Alex sat down on the table, grabbing a party hat on the way and slipping it on. “You did great. I couldn’t bake a cookie.”

“You’re lying,” Mark said, but smiled. Alex passed him a party hat and he put it on. “I can order a new cake, we can still have a nice desert-”

Alex shook his head. “Don’t you dare. This one is perfect.” He looked up. “Oliver, honey, can you get on a party hat and get your ass over here?” He smiled at him.

Oliver shook his head and sighed, fondly, picking up one of his awful hats and reluctantly putting it on. He sat down next to Alex, letting him lean on his shoulder.   
He saw him pull out his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Memories.” Alex grinned widely and got off the table, pulling Oliver with him and nudging Mark, who stood up (against his will). He made sure that the cake got in the picture and snapped it.

* * *

_Oliver stared at the shaking photo in his hands, a week after it was taken. He was locked in his bedroom, that used to belong to three of them. He heard the sink turn on in the adjoining bathroom, and almost flinched at the sound of running water, dropping the photo and curling into himself.  
He almost didn't hear Alex come in, but felt him sit next to him and wrap his arms gently around him._

_He fell back into his arms and let out the sob he'd been holding in._


End file.
